NatziYeti

When I was seven, I was diagnosed with emotions. "Poor girl." I heard them say. "She'll never survive this one." I laid with my face towards the ceiling on the cold examination table, listening to them discuss my fate. I felt something breaking in my chest and something burning inside my throat. A small tear slipped down my cheek. "Doctor! Look at this!" Shrieked my mother, "Something is coming out of her eye." The doctor rushed over to me and wiped the tear from my cheek. He touched the top of my head as he whispered, "I am so sorry." And then he turned to my mother. "It's a tear. It means that she is sad." "Sad?" My mother asked inquis

Is it redundant to describe a brothel as seedy?   I suppose it is, but then how can I be expected to describe a brothel that I think must be particularly seedy?  I don't know, I guess I'm no expert on brothels or anything, but I don't think they can all be as seedy as the one I found myself in.  Everything from the rather off-putting older woman who answered the door and questioned me severely about whether I was looking for "any freaky shit" to the mismatched, ratty furniture in the waiting room. Now that I come to think about it, the idea of a waiting room in a brothel is a little gross in itself. I wasn't t

 My brother killed a cat today. There was a famous Chinese general who once said that you would truly discover a man through his torture. I have come to disagree. When are we more exposed than when we are in sorrow, ridden by guilt? My brother killed a cat today. It was a little cat, a black one named Houdini with long fluffy hair and a sweet face. I'd heard of Houdini before when his owner pinned a note to our door when we were out asking if we would like to take him in. She had mistaken us for our neighbor, who has eleven cats. Her name was Holly and she sounded like she was between jobs. My brother killed a cat today. It was a little c